Sons of maids tended to be like that.
Had the man thought it his duty to bed the lady’s maid once I suggested it? he wondered, a sense of guilt making him wonder what he might have to do to make everything right again.
Devlin, the footman, appeared with the first course. When he noted where Adele was seated, he seemed unsure of what to do. Her dinner service was still at the other end of the table.
“I’ll be eating here this evening,” Adele piped up, indicating the space at the table in front of her. “And every other night, as well,” she added with an arched brow.
Acknowledging her with a bow and a, “Verra good, milady,” the footman set about moving her place setting before he poured wine and placed the soup bowls in front of them. As soon as he was out of the room, Adele turned her attention back to Milton. “It’s sure to be awkward between them.” She didn’t even want to consider what it might be like for them in the traveling coach when they had to head back to London!
Was Simpkins capable of bodily harm? For a moment, Adele felt rather sorry for Banks, for she rather doubted the man would defend himself against the lady’s maid. Even though Simpkins seemed only sad now, Adele knew how anger usually followed the sadness in a broken relationship.
She knew because she had experienced it first-hand.
Still considering his rather one-sided conversation with Banks in the billiards room, Milton was left wondering just how awkward it would be. “They’re our age, sweeting. Surely they’re both mature enough to work out a suitable schedule where they don’t have to see one another,” he replied with a shake of his head. At Adele’s look of shock, he added, “We did. Or rather, you did. I didn’t see you once all day yesterday.”
“That’s because I made sure I wasn’t in the study or the billiards room,” Adele countered with an arched brow. It wasn’t difficult to hide when she knew which rooms were the favorites of her husband. She felt a bit of guilt when she noted his momentary look of hurt.
“I’ll speak with Banks tonight. Before I come to your bedchamber,” Milton amended, hoping he would still be allowed to share her bed. After yesterday’s fiasco, he had no intention of attempting to sleep by himself again. “See if I can’t gauge what really might have happened.” He helped himself to a spoonful of soup. “Did she... cry?” he asked in a hesitant whisper.
Turning to her meal, Adele gave a nod. “She was a veritable watering pot, and not a hanky in sight.”
Milton’s expression of disgust was almost comical. “I promise I shall never intentionally make you cry,” he said suddenly. “I find a crying woman most vexing. No matter what I say, it’s wrong, and if I don’t saying anything at all, it’s wrong.”
Well, at least he has the gist of it, Adele thought, deciding his comment needed no response.
They continued to eat in relative silence for the rest of the meal, Adele’s thoughts on her maid and Milton’s on how he planned to surprise his wife in the morning.
And satisfy her later that evening. He did not want to imagine her wielding the gong’s mallet in his direction.
Chapter 36
An Earl Wonders What He Did Wrong
Later that night
Milton regarded his reflection in the ancient cheval mirror. At least he had placated Adele enough that she wouldn’t rebuff his advances this evening. But how the woman had come to believe he had paid his valet to bed her lady’s maid was beyond his ken.
When a quick knock at the door was followed by his valet appearing around the edge of it, Milton waved him in. He watched the man’s reflection as the valet moved to join him at the mirror, looking for any signs that he was upset or saddened by what had happened that afternoon. As usual, his passive expression gave away nothing.
“Normally, it wouldn’t be any of my business what you do on your own time, Banks, but I believe there’s been a misunderstanding.”
Straightening, his face a study in confusion, Banks regarded his employer for a moment before allowing a nod. “I am of the same opinion, my lord,” he finally replied.
The earl angled his head. “Seems I may have given you the wrong... instructions regarding Miss Simpkins,” he murmured. “I never meant for you to have to do something you didn’t wish to,” he added, his manner rather awkward.
“But I haven’t, I assure you, sir,” Banks replied in the same low voice.
Milton frowned and regarded his valet a moment. “I was under the impression you spent time in her company.”
“I did,” Banks acknowledged. “I have. Several days in the traveling coach.”
Continuing to frown, the earl considered the simple responses. “What about the nights?” A bushy, arched eyebrow accompanied the question.
Tempted to inform his employer it was none of his business, Banks finally allowed a sigh. Had Simpkins informed her ladyship of what had happened between them? Were they both in danger of losing their positions over it? Or was this about something else entirely?
“Part of the reason I was able to return your purse with so many coins still in it is because The Black Swan could only spare two rooms for our party,” he said carefully. “And I did not share one with Haversham and Higgins.” This last was said with an arched eyebrow that mirrored his master’s.
Rocking back on his heels, Milton Grandby regarded his valet with an expression that suggested he was a bit confused. “Which implies you shared the room with Simpkins,” he stated.
“I did,” Banks admitted with a curt nod. When the earl continued to arch his bushy eyebrows, as if he was waiting for the valet to say more, Banks sighed. “Contrary to my initial opinion of Miss Simpkins, I found her completely agreeable. Rather pleasant, in fact. Indeed, I was glad to be in her company,” he claimed.
When his master’s eyebrows continued their upward journey to his hairline, as if he was waiting for a confession, Banks sighed again. “She was a most willing lover,” he finally whispered.
It was the earl’s turn to sigh. “Then she must have developed a tendré for you. My countess was not happy with me at dinner tonight.”
Banks’ eyes widened before he displayed an expression of confusion. “I am aware Miss Simpkins is... unhappy with me, but I cannot sort why that might be. She seems to believe I somehow profited from my time with her. And not in any manner other than a monetary way,” he added, his brows furrowing in another attempt to figure out why she had come to that conclusion.
“She overheard our conversation in the billiards room,” Milton admitted with a shake of his head. “Since I don’t remember you saying very much, she must have heard me make a rather crude remark to that effect,” he admitted, his voice kept low in the event his wife was listening to their conversation on the other side of the dressing room door.
“Oh,” was all Banks could manage just then. He closed his eyes, remembering the earlier comments the Earl of Torrington had made and fully understanding why it was the lady’s maid would assume the worst. “Oh.”
“I apologize,” Milton said quietly. “It was wrong of me to assume you wouldn’t find Simpkins... beddable.” He suddenly frowned. “Was she... beddable?” he asked suddenly.
Despite his position, Banks managed a rather quelling glance. “Very, my lord,” he responded, his words clipped as he ignored the earl’s apology. Given Torrington’s opinion of the lady’s maid, he rather doubted the man would believe anything else he told him about Alice Simpkins, though, and so he merely stood waiting for the earl’s next question.
But the earl didn’t ask one. Instead, his brows furrowed and he sank onto his bed, his shoulders slumping. “I owe the lady’s maid an apology as well,” he murmured sadly. He dared a glance at this valet. “She’s not been happy this past year, and...”
“For good reason,” Banks replied, his hands going behind his back to clasp together. Another moment at his sides, and he might have been tempted to punch his master in the jaw.
Torrington frowned. “Enlighten me.”
Banks c
onsidered the order for a moment before he said, “She has taken on the impossible task of seeing to it the scullery maid is able to keep her position despite her inability to perform the duties required of the position.”
Blinking, the earl regarded his valet for a moment. “Whatever do you mean?”
“She’s up well before dawn, down in the kitchens, preparing it the way Cook expects it to be when she starts her day. Libby cannot... she does not have the...” He paused, not sure how to explain that the girl couldn’t grasp how to do the various duties expected of her.
“Capacity,” Torrington finished for him.
“Exactly,” Banks agreed with a sigh.
“And my recent comment about not letting go of any servants ensures she is able to keep her position despite not being able to perform it,” he finished, understanding the problem somewhat. “But why would Simpkins think it necessary to do the girl’s duties?”
Sighing, Banks wondered if he was betraying the maid’s trust in him by telling his master about Libby. “I do not believe it’s my place to say why, my lord.”
Milton stood up, the sudden move forcing Banks to take a step back. “Then I shall discover the reason for myself,” he announced, after which he promptly took his leave of the master suite.
Left in his master’s quarters wondering what was left for him to do, Alonyius had two thoughts.
Make that three.
He was a bit worried for Alice’s reputation. If Milton Grandby was on his way to the maid’s quarters, he could only hope the other servants didn’t come to the wrong conclusion as to why he might do so.
Alonyius could only imagine how much trouble the man might find himself in should the Countess of Torrington believe he was having an affaire with her lady’s maid.
Serves him right, the valet thought with a sigh.
His uncharitable thought was replaced by another. Poor Alice. Despite what she believed he had done, he still felt affection for her. Affection he was sure would never again be requited.
And then another finally cemented itself in his brain, and he realized what he had to do.
Chapter 37
An Earl Eats Crow
A few minutes later, in the servants’ wing
Learning in which room Alice Simpkins had been assigned should have been easy. Simply ask the housekeeper, or the butler, or any of the staff of Torrington Park.
Normally, Milton would have done such a thing, but with it being well after nine o’clock at night, it seemed far too inappropriate. What would the other servants think to discover him in search of his wife’s lady’s maid? Why, they might think he was carrying on an affaire with her! And although she was a rather handsome woman—she had probably been pretty when she was younger—the very last thing he wanted was any kind of scandal involving another woman. Not after the day he had experienced yesterday.
“Good evening, Lord Torrington,” Mrs. Miller said. “Are you looking for someone in particular?” she asked when Milton turned and gave a quick nod. Her curtsy was a barely-there dip.
“Tomorrow is the hanging of the greens, and I’ve a surprise in mind for my countess. But I need her lady’s maid to help me pull it off. By chance, would you know which room is hers?”
The housekeeper’s expression suggested she might believe his story. “Why, the second door on the left. I made sure she has an eastern vantage,” Mrs. Miller replied with a grin.
“How kind of you,” Milton replied. “Is everything in place for the... wreath-making?” he asked then. After all the work they had done to create enough pine boughs to decorate every room in the lodge, he didn’t want the branches to end up rotting outside the great hall.
There was a pause as she considered his query. “I know nothing about it,” she replied with widened eyes. There was actually a hint of fear there, as if the idea of making wreaths was a complete unknown for the woman.
Finally, Milton thought in delight. He had managed to discombobulate the housekeeper. “We’ll need the wire and ribbon fabric the late dowager countess used when she was here making wreaths and what-not,” he said. “You do remember, do you not?”
Mrs. Miller nodded. “Of course, my lord,” she said with another nod. “I’ll see to it right away.” She gave a curtsy and hurried off, leaving Milton to allow a sigh of relief before he turned and regarded the second door on the left.
Lifting his hand, he hesitated before finally rapping his knuckles against the thick wood. There was a chance the lady’s maid wouldn’t answer. A chance she would slam the door in his face. A chance she wasn’t even in...
“Good evening, my lord,” Simpkins said as she opened the door a bit wider. “You wished to speak with me about the surprise?”
Milton blinked. Had she heard everything he said to the housekeeper? He had always thought the doors too thick to hear anything said in the halls. “Indeed.” He was about to suggest they go to a parlor when she stepped aside.
Giving a glance down the hall, Milton decided it was safe enough. He hurried in but stopped and made sure his back was to the adjacent wall. He gave a bow to her curtsy and then scanned the room. Although no one else was there, it appeared she could have hosted a small soirée given the amount of open space in the back.
“Are all the servants’ quarters this large?” he asked in awe.
Simpkins sighed. “I’m sure I wouldn’t know, milord.”
The earl ducked his head. “Of course not. How could you?” He sighed again.
“Are you here to fire me, milord?”
Milton blinked. “No. No one is being sacked,” he replied with a shake of his head. “Now, if I could sack myself, I would. I always thought my cousin, Gregory, should have been the earl. But since I was born a few months ahead of him...” He allowed the sentence to trail off.
Alice frowned. “But your father was the earl,” she countered, quite sure he had come to the title by being the oldest heir.
“True,” he acknowledged. “I suppose there was no hope for me,” he added. He sighed again. “Have you ever eaten crow?”
It was Alice’s turn to blink. “Twice that I can recall. My mother made it when there was nothing else available to feed us.”
Closing his eyes when he realized she had taken him literally, Milton waited a moment.
“Oh. You meant the other kind, I suppose,” Alice offered before she frowned. “Once, then. When I accused another servant of having lifted a necklace from her ladyship.” At the earl’s sudden interest, she added, “It was merely misplaced. Not of my doing, I assure you. But I felt awful, and I apologized immediately, milord.” She wasn’t about to add that the servant had left the employ of her ladyship and gone on to become the head housekeeper for another estate.
“I have many times. I hope this is my last. I made a grave error in... judgement.”
“My lord?” Alice couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Whatever could the earl have done that he needed to apologize to her?
“I knew of your recent bout with... unhappiness. My countess mentioned it over dinner last month. Before we embarked on this trip, I thought to improve matters by seeing to your... happiness. I happen to employ a rather dutiful valet whom I thought could see to those ends.”
Feeling a bit light-headed—Alice could hardly believe the earl’s words—she tried to control her breathing. “You do, yes,” she agreed.
“I mentioned it to him, and then realized how ludicrous it sounded—as if I was expecting him to fall on his sword...” He paused and rolled his eyes. “To make someone he did not know or particularly care for, happy again. I told him to forget what I’d said, but it seems he could not. Or did not.”
Alice stared at the earl. “May I ask how you much you offered for him to... make me happy, milord?”
Frowning, Milton shook his head. “I didn’t offer money,” he replied quickly. “Well, I did tell him to keep the leftover coins from the trip here, but I do that every year as a sort of payment for him finding us the best coac
hing inns. But it wouldn’t have done any good if I had offered any blunt.”
Inhaling sharply at this bit of information, Alice stepped back a bit. “Pardon?” She was sure there was compensation offered to bed her. Why else would...?
“Mr. Banks is not like most men when it comes to money,” the earl went on. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but he is an heir to a rather prosperous textile mill, and will be an equal owner of a manor house in Darlington upon the death of his mother.”
Alice nodded. “I am aware, milord,” she replied, her heart suddenly racing.
“If Mr. Banks showed you any kind of interest—carnal or otherwise—he did so of his own volition. And since I’ve been informed my overheard words to him caused a broken heart or two, I find I must apologize,” he said, his voice kept low in the event it could be heard outside the door. He didn’t want the entire staff knowing about what had happened earlier that day. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I do hope you won’t hold my words against him.”
Her eyes suddenly bright with tears, Alice struggled to catch her breath. She remembered Alonyius’ reply to her earlier accusations that evening. Of how he had profited by simply knowing her.
“Oh, my lord,” she said as she considered what she must do. What she had to do. “Now I am the one that needs to eat crow.”
His eyes darting to the side, Milton wondered what she meant. “And to whom do you owe an apology?”
“Him,” she said simply. Her small hands wrung together at her waist. “This cannot wait until morning. I cannot let him spend the night thinking I despise him. I said the most awful things to him.”
The earl bobbed his head about, deciding he agreed with her. ‘Never go to bed sorry’ was as important as ‘never go to bed angry’. “I expect he’s still in my quarters. When he’s finished, I’ll make sure he... pays a call?” He wasn’t exactly sure that was the best solution, but what else was there?
The Christmas of a Countess (The Holidays of the Aristocracy Book 1) Page 24